Troubled Times
by Astrid M. Blackcoat
Summary: A series of Green Day songfics. HarryDraco. Warnings- rebellious!bastard!Harry. Punk!rebellious!Draco. Slash. Punk music. Bad language. Gratuitous snogging. Slightly dark.


Troubled Times

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Astrid M. Blackcoat

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A series of Green Day songfics. Harry/Draco. Warnings- rebellious!bastard!Harry. Punk!rebellious!Draco. Slash. Punk music. Bad language. Gratuitous snogging. Slightly dark.

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Sunday boiled in the flat summer air of Privet Drive. Mr and Mrs Vernon and Petunia Dursley and their son Dudley, the occupants of Number Four, climbed into Mr Dursley's company car and swept out of the drive, destined for the house of Mrs Dursley's dear friend Melinda and a cooked lunch in her new kitchen.

Harry Potter, nephew, orphan and disgrace upon the heads of Mr and Mrs Dursley, sat on the couch in the living room of Number Four and thought. It was a comfortable couch, wide, somewhat squashy, and upholstered in a rather unfortunate shade of beige. None of this served to improve Harry's mood. Bored, cranky, brooding thoughts churned viciously inside his head, elbowing one another in the ribs and generally annoying the others.

Harry Potter was not in the best of moods.

_I sit around and watch the tube but nothing's on_

_I change the channels for an hour or two_

An image surfaced in the unruly hubbub of his thoughts. Ron's face, grinning sheepishly, flushed with excitement, telling Harry that he and Hermione had started dating. Hermione's face surfaced alongside Ron's, blushing and proud.

Harry was fine with Ron and Hermione dating. He was surprised it hadn't happened earlier. However, the constant slew of letters from both Ron and Hermione, babbling about one another and conveniently forgetting to tell Harry anything about what was happening was becoming wearisome.

_Twiddle my thumbs just for a bit_

_I'm sick of all the same old shit_

_In a house with unlocked doors_

_And I'm fucking lazy_

The continuous lack of news, despite his most valiant efforts, still grated on Harry's nerves like a dog whistle. Hadn't Dumbledore learned how dangerous keeping him in the dark could be? All Harry knew of the Order's goings-on was his weekly letter from Lupin, telling him how everyone was, and enquiring after his wellbeing. Harry replied to each one with the same standard drivel, telling Lupin he was fine, nothing had happened, best wishes to the Order, blah, blah, blah. It made Harry want to hit something.

_Bite my lip and close my eyes_

_Take me away to paradise_

_I'm so damn bored I'm going blind_

_And I smell like shit_

Harry had done all of his homework in the first week of holidays. He had been to Diagon Alley to see the Weasley twins' new shop, which was always crammed with customers. He had bought some spellbooks and learned new spells until that in turn became dull. Even baiting Dudley had lost its charm. Harry was now a very bored sixteen, able to perform magic whenever he wished, and Dudley avoided him like the plague, lest he be attacked and turned into anything unpleasant..

Boredom clawed at him like an enormous whinging toddler. He considered watching a video, and scanned the Dursley's collection. Trashy action movies made up the bulk of it, along with several girly romances of Aunt Petunia's and a few arthouse pictures, bought by Uncle Vernon in an attempt to be intellectual. None of them appealed to Harry. He sighed.

_Peel me off this velcro seat and get me moving_

_I sure as hell can't do it by myself_

'I've got to get out of here,' said Harry to himself. Knowing, as he did, Melinda's tendency to both make enormous lunches and natter on for hours on end, he had a while to himself.

He stood up and stretched.

_I'm feeling like a dog in heat_

_Barred indoors from the summer street_

_I locked the door to my own cell_

_And I lost the key_

The meticulously clean walls of the meticulously clean living room felt like they were closing in on him. The heat, despite the powerful air conditioner Uncle Vernon had installed, seemed to seep through the walls to wrap its tendrils around Harry. He couldn't go for a walk, the heat would be worse outside. Any tampering with any of Dudley's things couldn't possibly pass unnoticed... then again, what could the Dursleys possibly do to stop him?

'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Why not?'

_Bite my lip and close my eyes_

_Take me away to paradise_

_I'm so damn bored I'm going blind_

_And I smell like shit_

He climbed the stairs two at a time, turned left and opened the door to Dudley's room. Harry scrutinised the big, black leather jacket Dudley wore when out with his gang, which hung, like a massive, deflated football on the wall.

He picked it up and examined it. Far too big for him, of course- but excellent quality leather. He shrugged it on and inspected his reflection in Dudley's bedroom mirror, turning a little.

'Not bad,' said Harry, slipping it off his shoulders. Opening Dudley's wardrobe, he took quick stock of its contents. Jeans, some band T-shirts (never worn due to Dudley's inability to fit into them), some proper dress-up-for-company trousers and three Smeltings uniforms. Not particularly impressive for such a rich boy.

He turned and glanced over his cousin's CD collection, which was even less impressive. Harry didn't pretend to be an expert on good music, but he knew crap when he saw it, and Dudley's collection had some choice crap.

Harry snorted. 'And he thinks he's straight. He owns a _Justin Timberlake_ CD.'

_I got no motivation_

_Where is my motivation_

_No time for the motivation_

_Smoking my inspiration_

Harry opened the wardrobe again and, after a moment's thought, removed Dudley's unworn Ramones T-shirt and slung it over his shoulder. He left the room, shutting the door behind him. Walking down the hall to his own room, he went in and removed his money pouch from his trunk, as well as his best-fitting pair of jeans and his Quidditch boots.

Harry pulled on the jeans and T-shirt, laced up the boots and, sticking his wand and his money pouch in his pocket, left the room and walked down the stairs.

_I sit around and watch the phone but no one's calling_

_Call me pathetic call me what you will (screw ya)_

_My mother says to get a job_

_But she don't like the one she's got_

_When masturbation's lost it's fun_

_You're fucking breaking_

Harry stared at his reflection in the hall mirror and ruffled his hair to make it look messier.

The door slammed shut behind him.

_Bite my lip and close my eyes_

_Take me away to paradise_

_I'm so damn bored I'm going blind_

_And loneliness has to suffice_

_Bite my lip and close my eyes_

_I'm slipping away to paradise_

_Some say "Quit or I'll go blind"_

_But it's just a myth_

END


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